


Come Back a Man

by Michelle



Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen, Rites of Passage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-11-21
Updated: 2005-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-18 08:55:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29607012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Michelle/pseuds/Michelle
Summary: Some things you just have to experience alone.





	Come Back a Man

**Author's Note:**

> Beta: Alina  
> Disclaimer: Not mine, sadly. I just take Tolkien’s characters out for a little walk and return them afterwards.  
> Note: Several people have bugged me to write. You know who you are, so this is for you! Thanks for your enthusiasm and encouragement. Special thanks to Alina for the quick beta and helpful pointers! Written for the October/November Teitho Challenge "Rituals and Festivities".

_“I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived.”_ (Henry David Thoreau)

~*~

He couldn’t take another step. It was just impossible. Estel had still a vague idea where he was, but he had left behind the familiar surroundings of Rivendell days ago. Or was it weeks already? He had no idea how long he had been wandering in this forest. The human was just thirsty, that was the only thought occupying his mind. Estel was dizzy now most of the time, tripping over roots because he couldn’t quite concentrate on the path before him. The ground seemed to sway and dip and the forest played tricks on him. His mouth was dry, his lips parched, his hands shaking. He was in poor shape, he had to admit.

And he didn’t even feel hungry anymore. Sure, there was a decidedly empty feeling in his stomach, but the desire to eat had become a faint thought in the back of his mind. It was the word _water_ he was repeating endlessly to himself. And yet he couldn’t drink, even if he found a stream. His father had explained to him that this exercise would open his mind and show him the threads that made up this big tapestry called life. At that particular moment Estel was quite sure there was nothing in life except feeling miserable, but he would trust his father in this the way he had trusted him in everything else so far.

//  
"After your birthday," Elrond had said when he had taken the boy aside in the last week of February, "you will be going on a quest. It has always been a tradition of your people for long years that their sons seek the solitude of the wilds to find their path in the grand scheme of things. You will go on this journey alone, on foot and without provisions, so you will be open for any vision or guidance you may be given. Listen to the world around you, concentrate your mind on your inner self and you will come back to us a man. Your path and purpose will be shown to you if you just have enough patience. I believe in you, Estel. Do not let reality hold you down and the Valar will grant you a glimpse of the glory of their creation."  
//

Whatever that meant. He was probably doing something wrong here. Lately, he always was doing something wrong. When practicing sword-fighting he tended to trip over his own feet, he had managed to nearly shoot Glorfindel in the foot and he was moody and melancholic – characteristics that were highly uncommon for his optimistic and open-minded self. He didn’t understand it. _Growing up,_ his father had called it, and him walking the countryside without food or water apparently was an important part of this process, too. He just hoped he wouldn’t starve to death before it was completed.

Estel decided to sit down. This was a place as good as any and he really couldn’t go any further today. The boy found himself in a small clearing and it was late enough in the day to warrant the plan to settle down for yet another chilly night. He took the blanket out of his pack – apart from his new knife pretty much the only possession he had been allowed to take with himself – and sat down heavily on the damp forest floor. March really wasn’t the perfect month for an outing like this, but Lord Elrond had insisted he go on this journey right after his fifteenth birthday. It was a Dúnedain tradition, he had said. Estel wasn’t quite sure why he had to follow the traditions of a people he had only met on rare occasions, but the thirst drove any deeper thoughts from his mind. He would just rest here for the night. Maybe he would feel stronger tomorrow.

//  
Estel took the present from Elrohir, trying to loosen up the blue ribbon – without much success. It was tied several times about the gift, there were knots here and there that proved to be a real challenge. After some unsuccessful tries, Estel finally lost his patience and ripped the wrapping paper apart in the hopes of acquiring his birthday present this way. When the paper came away, it revealed a beautifully crafted elven dagger. The crest of the House of Elrond was carved into the handle, but it was the elvish script that made Estel hug his brothers hard and utter a choked "Thank you". "May Hope prevail," it read in the flowing script of the elves. It would be his first very own weapon. Until now he had trained with weapons the twins would procure from the armory and bring back after their training sessions. His brothers were mighty warriors and for years he had wished to one day be as good a fighter as them. That they would finally trust him to carry a weapon – it was meaningful somehow. His family now seemed to accept that he was no child anymore. He vowed he would not disappoint their trust.  
//

While he watched the sun go down over the horizon he tried to comfort himself by remembering the nights in the Hall of Fire when his brothers had told tales of their past adventures and there was general merrymaking going on. But try as he might he could remember none of their tales nor any of the songs they used to sing on those occasions. He noticed how his thoughts were drifting, an endless chain of unconnected flashes of memory, unplanned and unorganized. He watched the light of day dimming first to a dull grey and then an oppressing black and never noticed that he had been staring at the same spot in the far distance for hours on end.

It seemed to be in the dead of night when he imagined to hear a distant sound. In contrast to spending your nights in Rivendell, where the gentle sound of the waterfalls would lull you to sleep and wake you in the morning, a forest at night was a frightening place to be. The moon was out and therefore it wasn’t as ink black as it could have been. But the forest seemed to come alive at night, the trees whispering, rustling their branches against each other, the sounds of scurrying feet indicating a small animal going about its business. But the scariest were the sounds that just _were_. They travelled the air, unconnected to the forest. They didn’t belong to an animal or a plant, they came from nowhere and settled down in Estel’s bones with a shudder.

The sound he was hearing now was so far away at first that he couldn’t place it. But to his horror it came nearer and nearer until he could hear the faint sound of feet circling him, a low growl coming from behind, the forest turning utterly still.

He still managed to grab his knife, his hand yet unused to its shape and weight, but hadn’t enough time to actually use it much for defense when a huge black wolf jumped out of the thicket and knocked him over. He managed to graze the wolf’s shoulder, opening a bleeding gash before his knife went flying from the impact. Estel ended up on his back, breathless, and the wolf stood over him in victory with his paws on the youth’s shoulders.

The wolf’s intense yellow eyes bore into Estel’s grey ones, his fangs were bared, emitting a low and dangerous growl. Just then a great calm came over the human and he thanked the Valar that they would take his fear from him in the moment of his – very premature - death.

But then the calm spread, a pleasant warmth settling in his bones, his racing heart slowing down to normal speed, his eyelids growing heavy. The wolf was staring him down and Estel could do nothing but fall into his gaze.

 _I will guide you,_ this gaze said. _Your path will be long and dangerous, and many obstacles will obscure its course. But if you are willing to follow I will not lead you astray._

And Estel saw himself, many years from now, wandering the wilds, a warrior trusting only his weapon. He saw himself drifting away from his father, seeking solitude in the roar of battle and the sting of the sword. There were scars on his body and lines in his face, showing a hardened warrior with many responsibilities on his shoulders. He saw himself wandering, alone, discovering distant lands with only his sword for company.

 _Not all those who wander are lost._ The words invaded his mind, trying to ease his distress.

Estel recoiled from this version of himself, this hardened man without joy, but the gaze of the wolf bore into him still and he saw a beautiful elf maiden walking towards him. His brothers welcoming his aged self back home. A wondrous city glittering white in the rays of the midday sun, people cheering, smiling faces. And they were smiling for him, because of him, he realized with a start.

Your path will lead you there, if you wish it or not. Do not fear and you will be awarded with the greatest joy.

He did not understand it. Not all of it, at least. However, this was it, this was what his father had wanted for him! The wolf was giving him council, but it seemed he gave answers to questions Estel had never asked. He memorized the words of the wolf as best as he could, hoping their meaning would unfold in the years to come.

And then the eyes beckoned him to follow and he could do nothing but obey the command.

When he woke it was to the sound of water rushing down from a great height. Estel could feel the soft pillow under his head and the warmth of the sun on his face. Surprised that he was obviously still alive, the human cautiously opened his eyes only to see familiar surroundings. He was in his own room, the windows to the balcony open wide, allowing a gentle spring breeze to play with the curtains. It was a very peaceful scene, but Estel found it most disturbing that he had no memory of how he had come to be here. His last memory was of a great wolf breathing down his face and predatory eyes testing him.

Estel decided to sit up just as Lord Elrond entered the room, silently in case his son was still sleeping. Seeing the human up and about he stepped forward, embracing the startled boy tightly.

"I am so glad you are back, my son," Elrond greeted Estel. "We were starting to get worried. But you have come back to us changed, just as I predicted," he added with a smile. There was a different air about him, Elrond could not fail to notice. Up until now the human’s future had always been veiled to the seer in him. Now however, he could see different possibilites take shape before his mind’s eye. The boy’s life would not be easy, he realized with a sting in his heart, but he saw him succeed in everything he set out to do. Estel had always been a fighter, never one to back down.

He gave his son a dazzling smile and prodded his shoulder. "Even though I should have known you wouldn't come back unscathed!"

 _Unscathed?_ Estel wondered. Just then he noticed the slight sting on his collarbone and found a light bandage covering his left shoulder.

"I think we can take that off and let the wound heal on its own. It wasn't that serious to begin with." And Elrond did as he had said and uncovered the mark of the wolf on Estel’s collarbone. The animal had left the imprint of its claw in his skin, connecting human and wolf for all eternity. Estel stared at the wound, mesmerized. He had not even noticed before that the wolf had wounded him. They had shed each others blood that night in the forest and both had survived the encounter. It established their bond, Estel was sure of it. This way, he would never forget the message the wolf had tried to convey.

In the weeks to come Estel would train with Glorfindel and his brothers even more vigorously than before, determined to equal them in strength and skill while the wolf’s mark on his collarbone healed to leave a distinct scar.

And so the spirit of the wolf never left Aragorn until his dying day.  
  
 _\- The End_

 **Note:** The story was originally inspired by the Vision Quest of the Native Americans as well as their own horoscope. And for once in a LOTR story I wanted to have Aragorn meet a wolf that’s not evil incarnate. Interestingly enough the wolf is actually his animal totem, because his birthday is between Feb 19th and March 20th. People with the wolf as totem tend to be restless, but are said to give hope to others.

_(November 2005)_


End file.
